Do-It-Yourself RV. Turning Your Mini Van Into An RV
A 2006 Toyota Sienna minivan can be converted with minimal effort from soccer-mom special to RV Lite
What do you do when your itch to travel extends for thousands of miles, but your budget won’t support all those nights in hotels? For a trip across the United States and back earlier this summer, my husband and I found the solution in an RV Lite — a Toyota Sienna minivan that we converted with little cost or effort into our own smaller, stripped-down version of the old Volkswagen Vanagons we remembered from the 1970s.
For years we’d played with the idea of buying a real recreational vehicle. But price tags were discouraging: $70,000 to $125,000 for either a motorized version we liked or a combination of a small but well-made trailer and a truck to pull it. We didn’t want to buy used, fearing breakdowns. And there was the issue of fuel economy, which loomed large after the oil shock of 2008.
So we downsized the dream.
Our Sienna is a standard 2006 model with three rows of seats. We removed the middle and back rows, which are bolted into place and can be easily reinstalled anytime, and were left with a large open space, about 4 feet 6 inches wide and 8 feet long.
The first six feet back became the cargo area by day and — with luggage moved to the front seats — the bedroom at night. We looked at folding cots and inflatable mattresses but settled on using two flip-out foam beds that we’d bought years ago for visiting children to sleep on. The van has vent-style back windows — good for ventilation at night — and lots of storage cubbies and cup holders that we stuffed with handy items. For lighting, we found solar lanterns that use D batteries as storage cells. Leaving them near a window in the daytime kept them charged up for nighttime use.
The van also has privacy glass: reflective windows that work like one-way mirrors to the outside, so that it’s difficult for anyone to see in. Still, we did put up a couple of curtains at night, hung on pressure rods.
We bought a tiny camp stove but never used it. Moving fast over a lot of territory replete with cheap restaurants, we decided not to fuss with hot meals. For cold food, like sandwiches and breakfast cereal with milk, we carried a picnic-style Coleman cooler advertised as keeping ice for five days in hot weather. It almost did.
And that left just one issue, the elephant in the room: plumbing.
Camping does not have to be primitive. Many campgrounds all over the country, both public and private, have clean, well maintained flush toilets and hot showers. Using Internet sites and camping guides (especially AAA camp books, which worked well for our needs), we stuck to these places. But still, most people also like something of their own.
Behind the area where we made up our beds, our van has a shallow well of space where the rear seats normally fold down. We chose to view this as a separate room: the bathroom. Fortunately, the technology of portable toilets is now impressive in two vital respects: ease of cleaning and discretion, both visual and olfactory. We purchased something called an Envirolet, from Sancor Industries of Toronto, a tad pricey but on the cutting edge of these advances. We also found a portable plastic sink, folding to briefcase size, with separate compartments for clean and gray water and even a tiny mirror.
An RV Lite wouldn’t work for some people: the plus-size family we once saw at an RV show, for example, who squeezed into a small trailer and joked that once in, they’d never get out. But for us, the minivan was cozy and functional. And, running at 25 to 30 miles per gallon, economical enough so that we felt no guilt at all about staying every third or fourth night in a hotel.
By BARBARA IRELAND Published: August 30, 2009
A 2006 Toyota Sienna minivan can be converted with minimal effort from soccer-mom special to RV Lite
What do you do when your itch to travel extends for thousands of miles, but your budget won’t support all those nights in hotels? For a trip across the United States and back earlier this summer, my husband and I found the solution in an RV Lite — a Toyota Sienna minivan that we converted with little cost or effort into our own smaller, stripped-down version of the old Volkswagen Vanagons we remembered from the 1970s.
For years we’d played with the idea of buying a real recreational vehicle. But price tags were discouraging: $70,000 to $125,000 for either a motorized version we liked or a combination of a small but well-made trailer and a truck to pull it. We didn’t want to buy used, fearing breakdowns. And there was the issue of fuel economy, which loomed large after the oil shock of 2008.
So we downsized the dream.
Our Sienna is a standard 2006 model with three rows of seats. We removed the middle and back rows, which are bolted into place and can be easily reinstalled anytime, and were left with a large open space, about 4 feet 6 inches wide and 8 feet long.
The first six feet back became the cargo area by day and — with luggage moved to the front seats — the bedroom at night. We looked at folding cots and inflatable mattresses but settled on using two flip-out foam beds that we’d bought years ago for visiting children to sleep on. The van has vent-style back windows — good for ventilation at night — and lots of storage cubbies and cup holders that we stuffed with handy items. For lighting, we found solar lanterns that use D batteries as storage cells. Leaving them near a window in the daytime kept them charged up for nighttime use.
The van also has privacy glass: reflective windows that work like one-way mirrors to the outside, so that it’s difficult for anyone to see in. Still, we did put up a couple of curtains at night, hung on pressure rods.
We bought a tiny camp stove but never used it. Moving fast over a lot of territory replete with cheap restaurants, we decided not to fuss with hot meals. For cold food, like sandwiches and breakfast cereal with milk, we carried a picnic-style Coleman cooler advertised as keeping ice for five days in hot weather. It almost did.
And that left just one issue, the elephant in the room: plumbing.
Camping does not have to be primitive. Many campgrounds all over the country, both public and private, have clean, well maintained flush toilets and hot showers. Using Internet sites and camping guides (especially AAA camp books, which worked well for our needs), we stuck to these places. But still, most people also like something of their own.
Behind the area where we made up our beds, our van has a shallow well of space where the rear seats normally fold down. We chose to view this as a separate room: the bathroom. Fortunately, the technology of portable toilets is now impressive in two vital respects: ease of cleaning and discretion, both visual and olfactory. We purchased something called an Envirolet, from Sancor Industries of Toronto, a tad pricey but on the cutting edge of these advances. We also found a portable plastic sink, folding to briefcase size, with separate compartments for clean and gray water and even a tiny mirror.
An RV Lite wouldn’t work for some people: the plus-size family we once saw at an RV show, for example, who squeezed into a small trailer and joked that once in, they’d never get out. But for us, the minivan was cozy and functional. And, running at 25 to 30 miles per gallon, economical enough so that we felt no guilt at all about staying every third or fourth night in a hotel.
By BARBARA IRELAND Published: August 30, 2009
